twang

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  • Lost Love

    twang

     blisters on my tongue
    words dripping from my feet
    silence speaking of the wrong
    that bitter tells of the sweet
    the eclipse of my day total
    the fire of night disbursed
    the gods have left blame at my disposal
    implicating demons blessing angels who are cursed
    as darkness permeates my day
    the stillness of rage is betrayed
    culminating into a thunder so maddening
    echoing the tranquility that sanity displays

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    myar’s Poems (2)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    truth 0 07/08/2009
    twang 0 06/27/2009
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